Why the Hell....

Why do people come to see stand up, and then spend the evening talking to their friends during the show? There are 700,000 places where people can hang out and talk; a bar, a coffee shop, a freakin’ parking lot- and there are about 20 comedy clubs. Why choose the club to catch up with your friends or chat about the weather?

And why do these people get all indignant when the guy with the microphone calls them on their rudeness?

And why do I let these people make me so angry?

My Adoring Audience

Sorry for not posting lately. My Internet connection at home has been down. Jose from Charter came this morning and changed out my modem, so everything is up and running again. And I have sooo much to share-unfortunately I can't now, but I will be a posting machine this weekend. Some of the topics to look forward to are:

Jury Duty

That Stupid Ford Commercial

The New Pauly Shore Movie

The Allman Brothers

The controversy surrounding my window

Stay Tuned.

I Can Never Be Happy

I’m so annoyed. 97.1, the LA talk station I listen to religiously, has cancelled All- Comedy Radio on me.

All-Comedy Radio is a show that would run every Friday and Saturday night, replaying comedy bits and interviewing comedians and those in the ‘know.’ It’s always good for a listen after I’ve come stumbling home from the..er..library on a Friday night.

In its place they’ve decided to have a couple sluts turned intellectuals talk about the events of the day. Yeah, ‘cause I want to know what Playboy’s Miss March 1997 thinks about the war in Iraq or the Michael Jackson trial. I’d almost rather listen to those pansies John and Jeff, who basically regurgitate what they heard on Tom Leykis the day before. Wow, say boobs one more time. You guys are soooo cutting edge.

My only hope is that All-Comedy Radio finds a new home. I e-mailed the big guy there, Michael O-Shea, and he actually wrote me back saying they are looking for another station and are even planning on streaming audio on the web. So all is not lost.

So enjoy your silicon-stuffed, over-the-hill bunnies 97.1, I’ll be taking my business elsewhere.

Weekend Update

I updated the upcoming gigs section on my website and to the right on my blog.

Where There's a Will

I just wrote out my will, that’s always fun. I’ve been putting it off and putting it off, but I realized I have to have one, now that I’m a homeowner. I don’t want the State of California to have my house, they’ll just give it to some illegal aliens to live in.

It was really sad writing it out, not ‘cause of the whole dealing with my mortality crap, but because I really have nothing. I was divvying up my worldly positions and decided that most of it’s crap. Who’s going to want my bear collection or my 3,935 candles? Nobody, that’s who! I had three or four things that I knew friends and family would want, but the rest I directed to be given to charity or put in a wood chipper.

However, I do have a little money so I decided to have some fun. I created a Rat Race, Cannonball Run-esque type event in my will, where the winner will get the remains of my 401k. I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but the event includes a llama, pink togas and route 66. I just know it’s going to be a blast-not for my friends and family, but for me, laughing maniacally up in Heaven with JFK Jr., Abraham Lincoln and my dogs Macy and Smokey.

A Day that will Live in Infamy

I wonder if the people at the Alhambra bowling alley Friday night realized that they were a part of history. They were there to witness the last night I will ever, EVER drink beer.

I’m serious. I’m done with beer. It’s over. Never again will I touch my lips to a tall boy. Hey that sounded dirty. I’m always on!

It’s just not worth it. Two beers and I feel like crap the whole next day. Plus my trainer tells me that those two beers all be negated the entire weeks-worth of training. I don’t get that, but it showed on the scale this week. He said that I would have been better off drinking hard liquor.

So there it is. From this point forward I will henceforth only drink spirits of 80% or higher! Good bye Miller Lite, hello G&T!

This will most likely be the beginning of a ragin’ alcohol problem. Bill W. save me a seat.

Let's Hear it for the Boy

Congratulations to my comedy buddy, Mr. Devin Dugan, for advancing to the quarter finals in the Ultimate Laff-Down. Go Devin, Go Devin!!!

Fool Me Once...

Ok, I’m going to watch NBC’s Saturday Night Live’s First Five Years Special, but if it only regurgitates the same fluff I’ve read in that 400 page book or seen in the other 30-some specials I’m going to be really, REALLY angry. I mean it this time. Really.

The List

The line up for California's Funniest Female Contest is set, and yours truly is on the list. I'll be performing Saturday, March 12 so mark it on your calendar. Last year I was up against 9 people I had never heard of; this year I know half of them. It's going to be a tough first round, but I think I'm ready. BRING IT!

Going Down the River

So apparently to do well in the Bicycle Club’s women’s poker tournament you have to be either a raging, old, sexless, bitch hag or a butch lesbian. While neither group is mutual exclusive, I’m sure there were several raging old, sexless, bitch, butch, lesbians, the majority were just bitches. Although, I must note, there were enough lesbians there to have a Margaret Cho concert. The lesbians were at least cordial. Several of them took a shining to me and my kicky and fun Mickey Mouse t-shirt.

But the bitches were out in mass today. I can just image their poor, pathetic husbands at home, who are just glad to be free from the beasts, if only for a few hours. I couldn't believe all the sniping and arguing. And that was just in the line for the bathroom!

It was not my greatest tournament showing. I didn’t play enough hands and I threw away playable hands just ‘cause I didn’t want to get into a tussle with some of the other gals. There was one chick (who I think used to be a dude, even though she swore she had a husband) who kept saying she had to leave so she’d play ANY freakin’ hand. It was obnoxious.

I think my downfall was when the blinds were 50/100 and I got pocket 8s. A totally playable hand, yet I threw it away when it was raised and reraised before me. The flop came 8s Kh 2c. I wanted to shoot myself. Then the turn was a 5d and the river…another FREAKIN’ 8. I would have had four of a kind. Why do I suck??? I totally disintegrated and kicked myself the rest of the tournament. I think my grandkids will be pissed about that hand 60 years from now.

I got taken out holding Jacks. The river had two 10s and one of the other ladies had a 10 in her hand. Grumble, grumble. Plus I think the lady was one of those sexless hag bitches.

I did manage to take out two other people before I died (one bitch and one lesbian) and I got $5 for each of them. So that cut the cost of the entry fee. And I had fun, except for the raging old sexless bitch hags. But I gave each of them the evil eye before I left. That will teach them.

Moment(s) of Zen

This weekend really reminded me why I’m pursuing stand up comedy. I had gigs booked both last night and tonight and as usual I was less than excited.

I go through this stupid ritual every time I have a gig. When I first book it I’m all excited, but when the day approaches I start dreading it; I get nervous and sick to my stomach. Then I get there, get up on stage and love it. I want to go up again and again. I leave with a renewed confidence in my abilities. ‘Cause even if my set wasn’t 100%, I know that it’s another lesson learned that will make me that much better.

Both my gigs were PHENOMINAL. Probably two of the best sets I’ve ever performed. I think something has just started to click with my performance. I’m more comfortable on stage than ever before. I’m able to trust my improv skills and ability to work with an audience and I’m really getting better at reading them. If they aren’t digging my bits about boyfriends, I can turn it around to talk about my family or porn, or family porn. I have more faith in my abilities to go up on stage with only a vague idea of what I’m going to talk about, instead of having to have my entire set typed out, single spaced.

Of course it also helps when the audience is with you. Both crowds were there to see comedy. Unlike some of the bars and coffee shops I’ve played where people come to watch the game or talk to friends, these people wanted to laugh-that’s half the battle.

I had a comedian I haven’t seen in more than a year come up to me after the show and comment on how much I’ve grown since he last saw me. It was really gratifying to hear that I’m doing the things I need to do to make it to the next step. Maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to go somewhere with this comedy thing!

Social Butterfly

I have a super busy weekend in front of me. I didn’t even realize it ‘til I was trying to make plans to hang out with my cousin Stephanie. I have a gig Friday night, my training Saturday morning, a BBQ at my boss’s place Saturday afternoon, a gig Saturday night and a poker tourney Sunday afternoon. When will I have time to lie around and be lazy??

Plus I really need to work on some new material. I have a slew of gigs coming up and I’m tired of doing the same ol’ set. I have a ton of stuff brewing but nothing written out and the stuff I have written out has turned out to be way too hack. It all sounds like I heard it before somewhere else. Maybe I’m just being hard on myself. So what else can I say about Michael Jackson…hmmmmm...

Hey Cupid, Suck it!

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. To me it’s just another day I won’t be getting a gift, but for millions out there under the delusion that love exists, there will be gift giving galore. Because, as you know, love can be quantified by the price and value of a gift. So for those of you, here is my list of the top 5 WORST Valentine’s Days EVER. Either use these as a cautionary list to avoid, or if you really hate your sweetie, please feel free to buy-there is still time.

Flowers. What’s the point? They look pretty for a couple days, then die; then you end up feeling guilty about throwing them away. I’d rather have the cash.

Clothing of any kind. Unless you know what size your partner wears. If you get too big she’ll think you think she’s fat; if you buy too small she’ll think she’s fat. Either way you ain’t getting any that night.

A stuffed animal. Are you serious? Are we in 5th grade? What am I going to do with a stuffed animal, put it in my pile of other shit I can’t throw away? And you think it’s cool for a guy to have a stuffed animal lying around his bachelor pad? Wouldn’t a neon sign that says “whipped” be more appropriate? Take that crap back to the car wash where you bought it and try to get your $5.99 back.

Candy. Nothing says “I racked my brain for something to get you, but either I don’t know you well enough, or I just don’t care enough, but I couldn’t think of anything,” like candy. And especially don’t give that gift in tandem with the clothing. You’re just adding insult to injury.

A gift from the star registry. What a shitty gift. “Here honey, I bought you a STAR!” What the fuck??? A star? How freakin’ lame. Especially if you live in or around Los Angeles? When is the last time any of us have seen a star? “Take my word for it Pookie Bear it’s right up there.” Why don’t you just take a crap and tell your lady that you named that after her and save yourself the $54?

Frank Sinatra left his Heart in San Francisco....

...I left my panties in San Diego. The full story to follow.

Stay tuned….

It Could Happen...It Could. What? Shut Up!

I really hope Celebrity Poker Showdown on Bravo can hold out a couple more years ‘til I’m famous. All the celebrities on that show seem to have such a good time and I know I would do well, ‘cause as you know, I have played poker once or twice before.

Plus I just know that I will charm the pants off one Mr. Phil Gordon. So much so that he will, of course, want to take me out to dinner after the show, to celebrate my victory as well as give me tips on how to prepare for the finals, up against the likes of Ben Affleck, Brad Garrett and Bobby Sherman (What? It could happen!)

Thus we’ll begin our steamy, secret affair, until after I’ve won the Celebrity Poker Showdown finals and we can officially declare our love for one another. After a year or two we’ll get married and have babies that can be raised by our elderly and unattractive nanny while I work on my award-winning sitcom or popular talk show and Phil writes his gazillionzth book on poker and a best-seller on how to satisfy a famous stand up comedienne every night in the sack.

I'm Scared of Cookies

Stories like this chap my banana. I picture this old bag looking like a cross between Elmira Gulch and the Wicked Witch of the West. (I want someone to comment on what is wrong with that coupling???)

This is the reason people don't do nice things for other people. This is the reason people don't say hello to one another on the street. This is the reason people get beat with socks full of soap in prison.

When I was 8, I bagged up several hands-full of Cheetos with notes saying "I love you" and put them in all my neighbors' mailboxes. Afterwards I realized I hadn't put my name on the note. Much later I realized how terribly creepy it all was. But none of my neighbors sued me over it. Of course they probably knew my dad collected guns.

The good part about this story is knowing that this woman is going to wind up old and alone and known as the “Cranky old lady.” Children will ride past her house on their bikes saying, "That’s the crazy woman who sues." Plus she'll probably get tons of "ding dong ditches" over the next 40 years, and I'm pretty sure she'll be visited by the Ghosts of the Christmases Past, Present and Future.

Shame on you Renea Young, shame, shame, shame!!!

Wanna Be a Porn Star?

My cousin Julie puts me to shame with her weblog. She posts every fifteen minutes and I can't even take a moment to look at my website. So Lazy.

But one of her posts did piqué my interest.

Although I couldn't find my rock star name, I did find other fun names. Do it yourself and see how yours stack up to mine!

My Porn Star Name: Sindy Sinn

My Taxi Driver Name: Phzhzmxtl O'Connor

My Gangsta Name: Rotten Mint Flava

My Pirate Name: Pirate Flora the Off-White

My Mafia Name: Butter Knife Sheila

This website has a TON of name generators. Julie will like this one, "Your Harry Potter Name": Mine is Luna. How cool!?!